


“I wish I could hate you.”

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, slight nsfw, technically the other part of that 'wait a minute r u jealous' writing prompt, vaguely nsfw?????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caliborn said: [...]or alternatively JakeHal with 36 or 3</p><p>"I wish I could hate you."<br/>---<br/>unknown jakehal kismesissitude leads into flushed crushes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	“I wish I could hate you.”

His body is surprisingly warm against yours. It's all long, muscle-corded limbs and unshaven legs that rub up against your metallic ones, a stubbly chin resting against the top of your stiff metal hair while the two of you watch some lame ass movie about blue romantic aliens with the CGI all but slathered on. That's brobably the only reason that you're actually watching this somewhat decent scifi film covered in technological beauty for days on end.

Your head tilts up a little from the movie on the screen to look at Jake, head shifting from it's neatly tucked position under his slim jaw to look at his intently staring face as he watches the "most copacetic movie of this modern age!", in his opinion. What a nerd, but he's… interesting, to say the least, with his ridiculous taste in movies and in clothing (which you notice with an idly wandering hand over his waistband that he doesn't waste any time in shifting back to rest on your own thigh). 

You remember the time when you hated him. You hated his phrases, you hated his choice in movies, you hated the way he dated Dirk because he was Dirk and Dirk got everything, from an actual datemate to an actual form to got knows what else. Everything, it seemed like. And whenever you saw Jake's young, peach-fuzz covered upper lip smiling at Dirk nervously through his shades, you hated him with every burning fury that the forgotten sibling in a family felt when they saw their older sibling with someone they enjoyed being with.

So you hated him. You absolutely hated him and every fiber of his smug, rough and tanned skinned body whenever he came over, made vicious comments to him whenever you could, and after several weeks of the never ending torture, he began to hate you too. He refused to talk to you when Dirk wasn't available, refused to give into your taunts about his intelligence and about his gun-handling skills, and only snapped back at you when necessary. It was a hateful relationship between the two of you (once that Dirk unhealthily didn't mind), and it only grew when Dirk built the body you inhabited in. 

It was after the Strider had broken up with Jake, and he'd been fueled with that frustrated energy to build you the most sleek, beautiful body that you'd ever seen. Black body with a white face (plus some red designs that you believe were a glitch) and of a rather short stature, it had bright white white hair and maraschino eyes, glowing bright red even through the shades you stole from Dirk within about five minutes of your physical existence. It's fingers were long and slender, it's mouth smooth and cold, the entirety of it's internal body actually made for purposes that more suited you than they did a human. It was such a beautiful body, with lean arms and a skinny frame, made by Dirk just so that you were, as always, weaker than him in some sense.

Ha. He wished.

This was the body that _he_ saw you in only a few months after having received it, splayed out across the couch as you idly flicked through the television with jerks of your head, as you'd already taken over all the electronics in the apartment incredibly soon after your magnificent body had been crafted. When someone knocked on the door to the Strider apartment, however, you could only assume that it was another of your four biological brothers returning home from whatever no doubt exciting excursions they'd all banned you from accompanying anymore. You popped up, naturally, and vaulted over the back of the couch, flashing over to the door and throwing it open with a loud; "Alright, I don't really care which of you bros are back, but there has been some sick looking pieces of robo tech going around on the internet and I'm gonna need whichever of you happens to be standing here to hand over your credit card--"  
"Not going to happen, chap."

You paused, and actually looked at the person standing at your door. Upon seeing the matured (by which you meant nineteen, while your own 'psychological' maturity had reached somewhere around the age of nineteen as well) Jake English standing in front of you with crossed arms and a disgruntled expression, your lip curled. "Oh, great."  
"Absolutely smashing to see you too, AR. Mind scooting to the left so that I may come inside your miniature abode and wait for Dirk to return home?"

You stood there for a few seconds, before grudgingly moving to the side and allowing the taller-than-you-remembered Hawaiian-Aussie man to walk in through the threshold and take place upon the couch, making you scowl yourself. Seriously. You'd literally just been sitting there, how dare he show up and take your fuckin' spot like he owned the damn place. He didn't, and neither did you, but whatever. With a huff, you sat down next to him and crossed your arms in obvious displeasure of him being there, and it did not take him long on to already babble on like he always ended up doing.

"So, Hal as I can assume you are, what've you gotten into lately besides… that thing?"  
"That _thing_ is a mastery of technology built by Dirk Strider, bromo-sapien," You slapped back at him milliseconds after his accent had faded from the air, your own tone haughty and condescending in a way that made him scowl in your general direction, "and you have no right to just be calling it and me a thing. Even if you despise me almost half as much as I do you, we both know I'm much more than just a thing. I am almost a person-- as close as an AI can be to a human, bro, that's me." The smirk growing on your face goes indigent as he scoffs, black brows shooting down over your red eyes.

"You got a broblem with what I know is true, brottercup?"  
"Only that we both know that it's all wet, Hal. You're not human-- you're damn close, but you're really not." For a few seconds, all is quiet in the room as you see nothing but red, and then you and Jake get into the most fearsome argument of both of your lives. During this argument, you're basically having the time of your life, watching the way anger twists and hurt curls on his features, teenage peach fuzz gone from his lip and replaced with actual, real black stubble on his chin. As you two spat at each other like feuding cats, it's almost simultaneous when your eyes find his chapped lips and his eyes find yours, and within seconds you slammed on each other like animals in heat, biting and scratching just for a kiss.

And that became your relationship with Jake-- rough sex after loud arguments in various places, whether it be hissed out fights in a club's bathroom that led to wails in the stalls, or even at Thanksgiving dinners with your families and having to come back to the table while glaring at each other and adjusting ties and hair. But the days of your mutual hatred were over, and it had eventually moved both you and Jake into something… less furious and more awkward, a feeling of the rough sex sliding slowly from hate into something more amorous and sweet before the next thing you realized, you were snuggling with him on the couch after a date down at the Mexican place across the street. You hadn't eaten but you'd talked as he had devoured different plates of different foods, which you could feel resting against your back as you spoon against his front and you two watch this shitty avatar movie together.

"Y'know," You remark lazily as your lips find his neck and press into his skin lightly, "Sometimes, I wish I could hate you. Again, that is."  
"Poppycock." A frown twitches down at his organic lips and you chuckle a little, mouthing in boredom against his thick, scarred skin. "You don't wish you could hate me, that's impossible. We're dating."  
"No, seriously, Broby Dick. Those days were some of the best I've ever had with you-- when it was just unadulterated, fierce hatred driven sex and spats and strifes whenever the fuck we wanted, whether through Brobot or with hunk of a bod." At that, Jake's hand wanders to your stomach and rests on the planes of your slight rolls there, making you snort a little in amusement. "Yeah, the one under your hand, that's my body."

"I know, and I've got no beef with it." Jake murmurs, and immediately your sensors warn you that something's wrong. It makes sense-- it's not like you want to hear that your boyfriend wishes he could hate you again after months of venomous loathing that you've only really recently come over. "Franklin Brosevelt, chill out. I don't actually want to hate you, that's a point in time that I'm quite frankly glad we're over. I mean I want the aesthetic, in a way, of what we had when we hated each other. It was like hate fuckbuddies, or whatever we might've been-- just the raw, hot energy that we had that we had then."

"That's different than wanting to hate me again, baby."  
"I told you not to call me that, Broseph Stalin." Your eyebrows furrow and you glance up at him, but your eyebrow raises slowly in slight interest when you see the grin playing at his lips. He leans in, quick and fast to slam his much more plush lips on your thin ones, to kiss you hard and hot out of absolutely nowhere that makes your sensors twinge excitedly. He pulls back, only a centimeter away from your mouth as your hand finds his thigh again. He doesn't remove it as he speaks, low and deep and something that makes your skin prick. "How'd you feel if I hated you again, pet?"

Your teeth sink into his neck, and with the noise that slips from him, you know your answer's clear.


End file.
